Page 48 of Still The One

With that, I tap into the camera app, turn the screen and snap a selfie of myself, texting it through to him without inspecting it.

He bellows a laugh, far too amused by my appearance.

‘You know, anyone else might be offended by this,’ I say when the laughing has gone on way too long.

‘It’s funny,’ he says. ‘Your fans are going to love it.’

‘Mywhat?’

‘And post,’ he says, laughing to himself.

‘Post where?’

‘On the insta thing,’ he says.

‘Matty! Damn it. That wasn’t a photo I wanted getting out.’

‘Sorry. Anyway, we’ve sealed the deal and I’m booking my plane ticket now. What do you want?’

‘Grab me everything out of my top two dresser drawers.’

‘Top two dresser drawers.’ He repeats my words. ‘I’m jotting this down. What else?’

‘My pillow?’

‘Pillow. Anything else? Want a couple trophies to make the place feel like home?’

He’s kidding, but I’m game. ‘Sure, throw ’em in. It’ll be fun to see Eve’s reaction to that. Ohhh, you know what else she might like? Top of my closet, right by the door, is a blue shoebox, taped to the hilt like it’s a Dybbuk box holding in a demon, and on the top are the words “Never Open”. Bring it.’

‘Is this box going to get me strip-searched at the airport, Fost?’

‘No, it’s just… sentimental,’ I reply. ‘Her sister isn’t thrilled I’m here and said I love bombed Eve when we met, insinuating that I didn’t actually love her, and this box will prove I did.’

‘Do,’ he corrects me.

‘The jury is still out on that. Just grab the box, please?’

This box – despite the fact that it looks like a bomb – holds pieces of my heart by way of tokens of Eve’s and my shared adventures and whispered promises. I have a feeling she too wonders if what we had was actually love, and I want – no, I need – to prove that it was.

‘I’ll get the box,’ Matty says. ‘Don’t tell me you’re attempting to woo this woman again?’

‘Maybe I am,’ I say. ‘Whether I can magically sweep this woman off her feet for a second time or not, we at least deserve some closure from our time before.’

‘I have a feeling if you fuck up twice, it’soverover. You ready for that?’

‘I wasn’t ready the first time. But I think reminding her of who I am – who we were – might help. Don’t you think?’

‘I suppose so,’ he says suspiciously. ‘Alright, then. Ticket booked, I’ll be there in a couple of days, bud.’

‘Thanks, Matty.’

We exchange goodbyes, and I’m left staring at the ceiling. If dreaming about each other during this serendipitous coming together is all this is meant to be between Eve and me, then the box Matty’s bringing will have no impact on us.

‘Pardon me, sir,’ Eve says with an accent I can’t quite place – Australian, English, Irish, Pirate? Somewhere in that zone.

‘Yeah?’ I say without opening my eyes.

Morphine is good, y’all. Why I need it sucks, and I’ll stop when I no longer do, but I can see why it’s become a problem for humanity. (Don’t do drugs, kids.)

---